


We Are in Love With the Dance

by MayCSB



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Cancer, Death, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, I'm a Prat, Other, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayCSB/pseuds/MayCSB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sloan passes away, leaving Don and their daughter Georgia behind. First chapter was based on a Prompt, later chapters based on requests. The chapters are not in chronological order, but the dates will be stated at the begging of each. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vienna

She looked beautiful. Her silky hair cascaded down her back, chocolate locks contrasting with her deep burgundy dress. She looked so much like her mother, he thought, and thank the gods. He could fool himself, and he often did, but there was absolutely no doubt. Georgia had him wrapped around her little finger since the very day she was born. Now, at sixteen years old, standing just a few inches shorter than him in a high school in Brooklyn waiting for the father/daughter dance to begin, he was never happier to be at her disposal.

There were dozens of girls there, but none as pretty as her. Plenty of fathers too, but none as proud as he was. The decoration was rather naff, but it hardly mattered. No, his eyes were on her, on how pretty she looked and how much she reminded him of Sloan, his Sloan, the one he – and she – lost all too soon. Georgia was only two when she lost her mother, and with that, Don became her everything. Her father, her friend, her guardian, her north star. This dance – all of her milestones, really – meant so much to him. They meant that he was doing a good job, despite any hardship, any obstacle, any death.

He hears Bob Dylan’s ‘Forever Young’ fading off, and moves his right hand to the small of her back, and waits for the next song to start. A few fathers and their daughters have already moved to the dance floor, and they followed suit.

_Slow down, you crazy child, you’re so ambitious for a juvenile, but then if you’re so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid._

He moves his hand from her back to her waist, and smiles at her as they lock eyes. They join hands and sway softly to the sound of the song, never breaking eye contact.

_Where’s the fire what’s the hurry about, you better cool it off before you burn it out, you got so much to do, and only so many hours in a day._

They’ve never danced together before, but it’s like a second nature to both of them. The dance is so easy, so simple, yet so significant. He has her there, and everywhere, as his little girl. She’s all grown up now, he reflects, but she’ll never not be his baby.

_But you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want or you can just get old, you’re gonna, kick off before you even get halfway through. When will you realise, Vienna waits for you._

Billy Joel’s voice echoes through the room, fathers and daughters swaying to the song, a mess of tulle and feathers and joy and pride filling the room. Georgia smiles at him, using her free hand to caress his shoulder. She loves him just as much as he loves her, that’s a fact, and there are few things more remarkable than the bond they share.

_Slow down, you’re doing fine, you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time, although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight, tonight. Too bad but it’s the life you live, you’re so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need, though you can see when you’re wrong you know you can’t always see when you’re right, you’re right._

The song is a coincidence, but it’s one not lost in them. Vienna is the song he danced with Sloan on their wedding day, the song playing in the radio when Sloan’s pregnancy test turned out positive, and the song he sang Georgia when she was a little kid.

_You got your passion, you got your pride, but don’t you know that only fools are satisfied, dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true. When you will realise, Vienna waits for you._

Some people would want to forget the song. Say it’s too much of a trigger, that’s hard to remember the better times, but not Don. No, he has always honoured Sloan’s memory like that. He promised her, promised her in her deathbed for Pete’s sake, that he’d be alright, and they’d be alright. It was an empty promise, he knew it and she did too, but all of those years, those long, often stormy years, have taught him a lesson on holding on to the promise of better days yet to come. He honoured her like that – being the best man – and father – he could be.

_Slow down you crazy child, and take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while. It’s alright, you can afford to lose a day or two. When will you realise, Vienna waits for you._

He fulfilled his promise. They were alright, and they were happy. They had Sloan in their hearts, always, and it each other in their lives. It didn’t matter what came or what went. That was enough.

_And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want or you can just get old, you’re gonna, kick off, before you even get halfway through. Why don’t you realise, Vienna waits for you._

They were Don and Georgia, father daughter, friends, accomplices, kindred souls, guides. It would never be forgotten – they were a special kind of family. He loved her more than he ever loved anyone. More than he loved himself, or Sloan, and he was not sorry. She was the love of his life. His daughter, his baby, his everything. She was his Georgia.

_When will you realise, Vienna waits for you._


	2. Don and Sloan and The Days That Never Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date is March 26th, 2018. Georgia is 14 months old, and Don and Sloan have been married for three years.

**Chapter Two: Don and Sloan and The Days That Never Came**

He notices speckles of changes in her demeanour right away. She doesn’t eat as much, doesn’t speak as fast, and seems to seldom have the energy to do anything she doesn’t have to. He starts noticing changes in her performance a few weeks later. She looks tired on air, her speech is slurred and she seems to struggle with names she’s been repeating for the past two decades. But he lets it past him, telling himself that it’s okay, she’s just tired, she’s young and healthy and being a parent is hard on everyone. But as months pass and she struggles with menial tasks and sleeps through Georgia’s first birthday, he starts to think that he might be overlooking too many red flags.

“Sloan. Tap your pen once if you’re okay to go on,” he instructs, knowingly. It’s Tuesday night, the day she gets five extra minutes added to her usual ten. But they’re seven minutes in, and she looks like she’s about ready to faint, so while he doesn’t think she’s going to take the early leave, he offers it anyway “twice if you need to wrap it up.”

When her pen hits the desk for the second time, he’s officially worried. So he tells her to wrap it up and call for the break, and when she says “I’m Sloan Sabbith and this is _NewsNight_ ” on a _RightNow_ segment and using her maiden name, he nods at Herb and Joey and yanks his headset off.

She’s the first thing he sees as he leaves the control room. He scrutinizes her right there, and his absolutely gobsmacked. She’s normally a size 6, a 4 when she goes on those crazy green juice fasts, but now she’s an astounding 2. The ruby dress she’s wearing looks like a Mumu – which makes no sense considering wardrobe took her measurements not two months prior – and her collarbone is absurdly pronounced. And the way she walks. God, the way she walks. Sloan always had that ‘do-not-fuck-with-me-you-have-no-idea-what-I-am-capable-of’ walk, but now…he’s not even sure what she’s doing characterizes walking. She’s wandering. No, she’s straggling, dragging, wayfaring.  Her hair is thin and the dark circles under her eyes could be seen from Ganymede. Anyone could think it was because she had an fourteen month old baby at home, but not Don. No, Don knew her so, so much better than that. And he knew something was wrong. He crosses the newsroom as fast as his feet allow him to, and gently places his hand on her arm and leads her to her office. She sits on her chair, without saying a word, and for a second, he wonders if she’s clinically shocked.

“Sloan. Sloan, honey, talk to me.” He begs, even though the situation doesn’t call for that. She eyes him for a moment, eyes glued on his face with the same sombre mien she had on ten minutes ago. She seems to gather all her strength to smile.

“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep all too well.” She tells him, still motionless “Let’s go home.”

He wants to argue, wants to tell her she should see a doctor, wants to demand that she tells him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t. He offers her a hand and leads her downstairs, jumping into the first taxi they find and hoping – praying – she’s alright.

 

* * *

 

He’s violently awoken the following morning. Not because Georgia is screaming or needs a diaper change, or because Nusra Front has yet again mutilated little children, but because Sloan bolts out of bed and into the bathroom, holding furniture for support and falling to her knees next to the toilet, right in front of his eyes. It takes another second to hit him. She’s tired. Vomiting. She has lost all focus and she’s so weak that holding a thirteen kilograms heavy child seems to be an excruciating task. She’s airy and her voice is lower, and her frame seems to be ever-shrinking.

He’s so shocked that the movement of tossing all his blankets to the side and following Sloan into the bathroom to hold her hair makes him dizzy. He grabs his mobile on the way there, and once he does settle, supporting her back with his body and using one hand to hold her hair and the other to push the buttons on his phone, he calls Will.

“ _It’s four in the fucking morning, Don.”_ Will mumbles, and he can hear Mac grunt _“What the fuck do you want?”_

“Will, is Mac around?” he asks, and wonders for a second why he didn’t just call _her_ mobile.

“ _Hold on.”_ He says, and Don waits for Mac to pick up the mobile “ _Hi, Don.”_

“Mac, I’m sorry to call so early. Is there any way you guys can look after Georgia today? We… we need to solve a problem.”

He knows Mac’s struggling not to ask what’s wrong. But she too, can hear the desperation on his voice, the pain in every syllable.

So she doesn’t. Don tells her he’s dropping Georgia off in about an hour and clicks off, ignoring Sloan’s muffled “I’m fine”, “There’s no need to do that” and “You’re overreacting.”

It’s all so surreal. He remembers the symptoms all too well, remembers the treatment all too well, but most of all, he remembers just how against her the odds are. But he has to keep moving, because she needs him and Georgia needs him and even though he’s absolutely sure, he’s no doctor and he knows there are plenty other diseases with the exact same symptoms. If only he were wrong.

 

* * *

 

Sloan doesn’t speak again for the entire duration of the cab ride. She doesn’t talk to Will when he takes Georgia’s car seat out of the taxi, not to Mac when she takes Georgia into her arms and asks Sloan if she’s alright, not when he explains where they’re going, who they’re going to see or why. She doesn’t falter when he tells her he saw it all happen to his father, the same symptoms for the same amount of time and with the same intensity. He tells her her health has been deteriorating for the past six months, tells her the oncologist they’re going to see is the best in New York, tells her she’s going to be okay, that plenty of people go through the same thing and survive, that she’s strong and he’ll be there for her. Tells her that he loves her and that everything is going to be alright.

He’s also the one who tells her she has leukaemia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...  
> Ps. The sizing I used for Sloan is the British standard. I'm not 100% sure about the conversion, but a British 6 would be a US 4, a British 4 a US 2 and a British 2 a US 0.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I suck. Meagan, stop crying.


End file.
